Episode 5: NUMBER (DOUBLE OHHH) 37, Lover of Women

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(A/N: OH SWEET MERCIFUL GOD WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I WROTE THIS CHAPTER? WAS I HIGH? REALLY?)

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Immediately the next morning, frustrated by the delay in getting him his Vulnerary (and in need of a coherent plot,) Doctor Soren decided to walk down to the Farmer Cyst's Guild himself, making sure to smack everybody he saw with his cane as he left the castle.

It was a dark and stormy day...wait, no it wasn't. It was actually a nice day, and the walk down from Crimea Castle to the building that served as the headquarters of the Farmer Cyst's Guild was entirely pleasant, despite the doctor having to do it with his cane (insert witty remark here).

After receiving his goods (assuring the Cyst Farmers that he would deliver the pain meds to some guy in horrific pain,) Soren was about to return to his "office" when he overheard two women talking.

"Ooh, I know exactly what the problem is," one of them said. They were standing next to a banana cart, so Soren sneakily snuck (a snake! a snake!) and hit behind the cart, taking a banana from the wagon before anyone noticed. The first woman had big black boots, long blonde hair, a "get-back stare" (whatever that meant) and a headband that reminded Soren of ninja, for some odd reason. She was carrying a carton of fruit. "My grandma had it. All you have to do is take a wash of lemon, lavender, and Kaliyugamayafeya spice from Gallia and put it right on the spot. It'll take care of the problem easy."

The other woman, a small, meek-looking purple-haired girl, squeaked. Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. "D-Do you really think it would work? I-I mean, do I put it right on the—" she lowered her voice— "you know…"

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, rub it right in there."

"E-Even on the b-b-bumpy thing?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket," the blonde said, giggling. "Right there, right above 'that place'. Right on your gentle gentles. You know, if you really want, I could help you apply it. Mmm…I have reeeeeally gentle hands."

"EEE! A-A-Ah…n-no, thank you," the purple-haired girl said. She saw Soren standing behind the fruit cart, surreptitiously listening to their conversation while fiddling with his banana. Soren was certain that the rather tall blonde had not seen him, and the purplette seemed meek enough to be silenced when Soren put his finger to his lips and then to his throat as if to say "If you reveal my presence, I will SHOVE FRUIT DOWN YOUR THROAT" or some other such thing.

"You sure, cutie? I could do it easy…"

"Y-Yes, I'm sure! I-I can do it myself, I just…need to buy the i-ingredients. I-I…I just don't like showing other people m-m-my…" The purple-haired girl lowered her voice again, and if Soren hadn't had ears of iron, he might not have heard her. "R-Rashes."

"I can understand," the blonde said, nodding vigorously, which made her goods jiggle. Then she accidentally dropped them. "Oh, dammit," she said as she bent over to pick up the fruit carton (not the fruit cart.) "I dropped my melons."

Several men turned around to stare, one of whom happened to be Gatrie. Soren listened intently but his visual attention was solely focused on the bananas piled on the fruit cart (not the fruit carton.)

"I really should wear a harness carrying around these melons," the blonde said, hoisting up the carton. "It was so much easier back when I just had oranges."

The purple-haired girl said "Meep."

"So, anyway, good luck with your rash," the blonde said, apparently not noticing how loud she was being, with the result that the entire plaza could hear what she was saying. "They're so annoying, I know. Especially when they get all red and blotchy, I get it. Hey, don't worry, it'll be fine, just remember that wash I was talking about. Put it right on your veeminy-jeeminy and it'll be all better! Okay, see ya!"

Before the purple-haired girl could answer, the blonde was off again, but as she turned to walk by the cart, she tripped over a cane. The purplehead girl seemed transfixed where she was, and she was shivering in fear, for some odd reason. She looked vaguely beet-like.

"Ooooow!" the blonde cried, getting up. She brushed herself off and untangled herself from her cape. "Shoulda watched where I was going."

"Why hello there," Soren said, finally revealing himself from behind the fruit cart. He dramatically ate his banana. "I couldn't help but notice that you're…surprisingly competent at…you know, medical stuff."

"What are you talking about?" the woman asked, her lips twisted into an incredibly sour expression. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Doctor Soren. But everybody just calls me Indy. Don't. Call. Me. Junior! Anyway, that's not important. What IS important is me getting people ready for when it's booty call time. What I'm saying is…I have a position available on my staff."

The blonde slapped him viciously. Soren wondered if he deserved that one. When she slapped him again, this time on the other cheek, he realized that maybe he did deserve that one.

"You lech!" she growled. "I'm not into that sort of thing." She smacked a pile of bananas over contemptuously and they fell off the wagon in an avalanche of symbolism. Apparently she disliked bananas and presumably other banana-like objects.

What a senseless waste of life, Soren thought bitterly. But he had no time for eulogizing bananas, because justice awaited him!

"No, no, I actually meant I have a position available on my staff. As in, a spot on my team. As a doctor."

"Oh. Wait, so what do you want me to do? Because I have to be going…"

Soren facepalmed. The blonde was about to leave when Soren grabbed her arm. "Look, if you're interested in making money, come to Castle Crimea and ask for tha docta. 'Cause the docta is always in da house."

The blonde scoffed very loudly. "Yeah, right, like I would listen to you, you little angst-ridden donkey-balled dirtbag."

The blonde had almost left when Soren mentioned, loudly and offhandedly, "Well, it's a shame this young miss won't meet my lovely young female assistants. Anna was really looking forward to showing a new doctor a few medical secrets, and Ilyana is sooooo hungry, she really wants someone who can help her satisfy her appetite for melons. Oh well, I guess there's other—"

"Wait," said the blonde. Soren jumped. Somehow she had went from halfway across the market plaza to directly behind Soren in about forty-two nanoseconds.

Ninjas, Soren thought, shuddering involuntarily.

"I'm…not really employed, so to speak…so maybe I can help you out…for a fee."

"Fine, fine, sure," Soren said. "I'm not paying the bills. I got people takin' care of that shat. Hell, I buy pizza with Titanny's money."

It was true. Not only did Soren not pay anyone anything, but he used the Vain-Egotistical Cash (the next step up from Petty Cash) his boss always gave him to buy either porn or pizza, or sometimes both, when the store had a special deal going. The only downside was that the red-headed non-slut Titania got his services for the price of dirt. Not even expensive dirt, but regular dirt. No one else would even hire Doctor Soren because of the reputation he had as an existential angst magnet, which wasn't entirely untrue. So, despite his brilliance, Soren found himself at the mercy of the red-headed Dean Queen of Mean, the tall woman whom he may or may not have had a torrid affair with (tune in next time to find out about that little detail.)

Also, Doctor Soren had to appear before the Invisible Shadow Marionette Council of Lords alarmingly and disturbingly often to answer for his myriad various transgressions. That was a problem. Luckily, the council couldn't do anything rash like revoke his medical license because Soren was THE ONLY DOCTOR AROUND. Soren, of course, exploited this like the crap. Plus, he didn't have a medical license. He did things all on-the-fly like.

"Well, then, I guess I'm in then." The blonde brushed a strand of goldilocks out of her face very dramatically. "I'll wait for you back at Castle Crimea, I guess."

"Wait a minute," Soren said, holding out his hand to stop her from walking away. Incidentally, he inadvertently grabbed one of her melons and said "honk honk" like a horn, but since she was too busy "servicing" herself, she didn't notice. Nor did Soren, actually, who was too busy sucking on his banana.

"What do you want?" the blonde asked, trying not to drop the fruit carton full of melons.

"What are you doing with those melons?"

The blonde sputtered, said "uh" a few times, and then she thought for a few seconds. "What am I do—I'm saving them for someone special, that's what I'm doing!"

"Fair enough," Soren said. He was about to walk away, then he turned back. The crate-carrying blonde seemed sufficiently frustrated. "Oh, one more thing," said Soren.

"One more thing? What the hell is it with the 'oh, one more thing'? Is that your catchphrase now? 'Oh, one more thing'?"

"Why do I even need a catchphrase? Anyway, no, what I meant to say is…who the hell are you?"

"Huh? Me? Oh, you mean my name?" The blonde looked back at the purple-haired girl, who was STILL STANDING THERE, and then turned to Soren, sneering. "Well, I'm not going to tell YOU my real name. Why should I?"

"Well, okay then," Soren said. "Then I'll just call you…Number 37."

"Where did you get that name?"

Soren pointed to the name tag on her left boob that said: "Hello, My Name Is: 37."

"Oh," she said.

"May I ask why you are called Number 37? Tell me or I'll feed you to the sharks. With friggin' razor blades. On their heads. And in their hearts. And in their cars. They can't rewind, they've gone too far, 'cause theatre killed the mime show star."

"I can't tell you why," Number 37 said. "Not here. Not now. I'll tell you later."

"Useful."

"Hey, I have to leave something up to the imagination!"

With that, the blonde, melon-bearing oddly-numbered ninja thief woman disappeared with alarming alacrity, and Soren was left holding his banana, wondering how something so good could go away so fast. His banana drooped.

"Thank you…so, so much."

Soren whirled around at the sound of a female voice behind him. The purple-haired girl (it was actually more like lavender) was standing in front of him. Soren was short, but this girl was shorter. She was very pretty in a childish, androgynous way. She wore a cute little white blouse and a short blue skirt, with needlessly girly pink slippers.

"What are you thanking me for?" Soren asked.

"That girl…she scares me to death! Sh-she was so forward! She just came up to me all of a sudden and asked if I was feeling all right! I had to tell her the truth because I was afraid she would hurt me if I lied! Oh, I was so frightened I couldn't even move!" The purp—er, lavender-haired girl's eyes began to pool with tiny woobie tears. "I-I have such a terrible fear of women. Oh, they frighten me so…"

Soren threw away the peel of his banana and grabbed a fresh one from the fruit cart. The burly man behind him seemed very angry about this for some reason, but Soren did not notice him.

"Wait," Soren said. "But…you're a woman."

"W-Well…it's funny you should say that. I…I'm, um, actually not a woman."

Soren blinked. The trap was sprung.

"Oh shit. OH SHIT. Well, as if this day wasn't frulked up enough. Now this is the kind of thing you don't tell your parents. Intelligently moronic, in other words."

For the very first time, Soren realized that the lavender-haired girl(?) was really pretty. A second and third and fourth and fifth look confirmed that opinion.

"Well, uh…" Soren scratched his head. The burly man behind him cleared his throat, but Soren did not notice him. "Did you, uh…happen to catch that blonde woman's name?"

"Her name?" the girl(?) said. Her(?) skirt billowed in the wind, revealing her(?) pink panties. "Actually, I…I was so scared, I barely remember anything she said to me…although, she was c-c-c-cu-cu…hot. Plus, some stuff she whispered really softly in my ear."

"Well, can ya give it a shot? Try, try, try to understand. I'm a magic man. But you need to tell me what she said to you before I can work my mojo."

"Hmm…well, let me think. Actually, I think she said her name was, um…Hyacinth…or something like that. No, wait, I remember now; oh yeah, she said she was 'Randy', now I remember! 'Very Randy', she said. Is that a Begnion name? I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"WELP, that's all I need to hear," Soren said, shaking his head, utterly in despair. He threw the banana peel over his shoulder and it sucked onto the burly cart owner man's face like a fisherman's wife's dream. "Thanks for the help, Bridget."

Soren walked away, unable to hear the girl(?) insist that "Bridget" was not her(?) name.

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(Insert scene describing how Soren and 37 get back to castle here)

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Back in Castle Crimea, Soren and Number 37 checked out the office.

"So you work here," 37 said matter-of-factly.

Soren sat down in his office chair and motioned for Number 37 to sit down in a beanbag chair that he had forced a servant to make for him by hand in a warehouse under inhumane, uncomfortable conditions.

"This is comfortable!" 37 said when she sat in the chair.

"Glad to hear it," Soren said, though he did not sound glad. "So first, the technical technicalities. Your job here will be helping me with my cases. It won't be easy. But together we can change the world. So anyway. Just out of curiosity, what did that lavender-haired gu—girl have that you diagnosed so effectively?"

Number 37 rolled over onto her side. She shook her hair and her gold locks scattered over her face and shoulders. She spoke slowly. "She said she had a rash on her…toodly-voodly."

"Excuse me, I didn't catch that. Did you say her 'toodly-voodly'?"

"Yeah," Number 37 said, blushing heavily. "Yeah, that's what I said, 'toodly-voodly', you wanna fight about it?"

"Not hardly. I don't want to fight my shoes in the morning. And yet somehow those damn laces always want to get all up in my grill." Soren quaffed a Vulnerary. He thought about telling Number 37 about the purple-haired girl(?) and her(?) big "secret", but decided that the fun (and the question of what the rash was) was better left unspoken.

"So what exactly do you want me to do here?" Number 37 asked, looking around. "Your office…looks like a room in a castle."

"Brilliant. I never would've guessed," Soren said. "And as for your questions: I'm a doctor. What do you think I do, flip flapjacks? I'm like…a detective. I have to diagnose about one extremely uncommon medical ailment every week. And it's NEVER lupus. Or a wolf. For example! The other day, I helped a girl who had some sort of 'social disease' that made her spontaneously teleport through time AND space whenever she sneezed. Well, I think it was a 'social disease.' What else would cause spontaneous violation of the time-space continuum BUT VD? And, I mean, she looked easy to me. She'd do it for a buck and a cup of coffee, I'd swear it. Those blue-and-white magician's robes practically SCREAMED 'do me!'"

"So all I have to do is figure out what people who come to us have wrong with them?"

"Yes."

"Um…" Number 37 looked around nervously. "I get the women. You can have the men."

"That's fine with me," Soren said quickly—then he stopped. "I mean, uh…well, if you insist, I'll suffer through it. But only under protest!" Soren gulped. "Look, whether or not you have 'diplomatic relationships' with your female patients is none of my business, but my business is none of your business, and, er…therefore your business is none of my business. And you can't do my business while I'm doing my business."

Number 37 stared at him, jaw agape. "How do you still have a job?"

"Because I'm SO DAMN GOOD, baby," Soren said, kicking back in his reclining office chair. "I'm that good, yeah. I could diagnose a bear with a hangover at 15,000 miles."

"So, when do we start working? I need that money." 37 fidgeted impatiently.

"Whenever we get a case. Chill. We just gotta wait."

"Okay."

"You know, it's funny you should be named Number 37. I don't even have a Number 1. Wish I did. Then I could say cool shit like 'Make it so', and Number 1 would make it so. I'd even have a custom placard made that said 'This is the desk of Number One'."

"Nah, you don't have the accent for that. You need a cool accent to say stuff like that. You don't have an accent like that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised…"

"No, really, you don't have the accent," Number 37 said, reclining in her chair. "In fact, you don't have much of an accent at all. Except when you say 'placard'."

"You flatter me. You piss me off…but you flatter me."

"So. Do we have any cases to deal with now?"

Soren grinned. "You'll have to wait until next week to find that out," he said, winking. "Well, next week for them. For us it's only a day. You know, the theory of tell-a-river-ty."

37 rolled her eyes.

"Well, as long as we have some time to kill…" Soren rummaged through his desk until he found his bright pink keytar. He slung it over his shoulders, cleared his throat, and prepared to rock out.

"Sweeeeeeeeet mooooooon-shiiiiiine," Soren sang, tapping atonally on the keys with a look that could only have been one of sheer, utter, complete self-satisfaction.

"What are you doing?" Number 37 said, visibly disgusted. She crossed her legs.

"You've never heard that song?" Soren said, chortling. "Come on, I mean…it's famous. Why wouldn't you know? You know, the song by Skyemaker. They're the band that wrote 'Georgie's Got a Bow' and 'Love in an Outhouse'. You know the song, right? The one that goes 'Sweeeeeeeeet moooooooonshiiiiiine?' That one?"

"I think you got that wrong."

"Really? I got it wrong?"

37 laughed in a way that proved that she had absolutely no respect for Doctor Soren whatsoever. Soren liked her already.

"37, I think this is the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship." Soren reclined in his chair. He fumbled around in his desk for a stogie and lit it up. "Here's lookin' at you, kid." He looked at her.

"You look at me, you die." 37 squeezed her breasts and blushed. "These are for women only."

"Wow. How very unsubtle." Soren grinned. He fished around in his desk for a badge and threw it to 37. He meant to throw the one that said 'Fellow' at her, but accidentally threw a yellow 'I'm with stupid' badge. She put it on anyway. "37, we're going to get along just fine. Now let's get working."